Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Guatemala and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Angels of Light & Akron/Family. All the underground hits.
All Be Bop Deluxe tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joe Smooth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Arcadia record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cymande,
Alice Coltrane,
The Pretty Things,
The Trojans,
Deadbeat,
EPMD,
Minnie Riperton,
F. McDonald,
Amon Düül,
Radio Birdman,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Theoretical Girls,
Alton Ellis,
The Gladiators,
Pantytec,
The Index,
Average White Band,
Marc Almond,
Man Parrish,
Tubeway Army,
The Selecter,
Ohio Players,
Animal Collective,
Sound Behaviour,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Roxy Music,
K-Klass,
The Fire Engines,
Chrome,
The Shadows of Knight,
Robert Hood,
L. Decosne,
Andrew Hill,
Gang Gang Dance,
Ken Boothe,
The Mojo Men,
Crispian St. Peters,
Curtis Mayfield,
Lebanon Hanover,
Whodini,
John Cale,
Scrapy,
Ultimate Spinach,
Byron Stingily,
Godley & Creme,
Visage,
Electric Prunes,
The Cramps,
The Searchers,
Letta Mbulu,
T. Rex,
Rapeman,
Lyres,
Popol Vuh,
The Dave Clark Five,
Joyce Sims,
The Buckinghams,
ABC,
La Düsseldorf,
The Techniques,
The J.B.'s,
Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.